


Cogito, Ergo Sum

by BloodForTheBloodGod



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Angst, Gen, Religious Imagery & Symbolism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-25 05:20:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30084081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodForTheBloodGod/pseuds/BloodForTheBloodGod
Summary: :)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 49





	1. The Church

Thin lines of thick blood tinted gold trail along the walls, fingertips pressed harshly and dragged along the surface of broken glass, slicing through flesh deeper until it scrapes along bone. Footprints sunken into the cold marble trail up to the altar of bones and skin, a throne carefully crafted for Koios to sit and rule from. Eyes that see endless timelines, containing the knowledge of everything that is, was, and will be. The church pews echoed with whispers in a singing language of the Gods, voices layering over each other in an incomprehensive chorus. Phantom hands reach out, clinging at those who pass through, trying to drag them into the pews to join the eternally singing voices. A collection of Koios followers, those who mindless walked through the church, trying to reach their God- only to end up trapped within the church so that they may stay with Koios forever.

Massive mirrors take the place of windows, shards of reflective glass sticking out at various angles, the images inside distorted and strange. Non existent objects appear on the other side, taunting the viewer with valuables that they can never reach- only able to stare longingly into the mirrors until they too become one with the voices singing the Godly language in the pews. The church of Koios was a dangerous place, the empty promise of prophecy drawing in those who have lost their path in life, coming in search of what they are destined for. No mortal ever walks out of the church- the entrance a one way door that leads to a building with no escape. Such is the curse of Koios- forever stuck in his own church, his only company the singing voices of those who he coaxed into his reach. It was an ironic fate, knowing from the beginning and being forced to sit back and watch the events that he’d already foreseen unfold, the Gods falling into their roles without a second thought around him- forcing him into line in times where he wished to break the laws of fate and time. Even then, just as it was shown to him a thousand times over, Themis was the one to finally put him away, trapping him without his own creation that he had paid greatly for in more ways than one.

The axis shifted off balance once more, tilting further and further until it stood straight up, threatening to fall and completely flip over without the weight of Koios to hold it down. There were those who thrived from the shift, those with histories of chaos and conflict that followed them like a second shadow through the timelines- actions that not even the axis could clean them of. That was the greatest glory for Koios, the consequence of living with past actions that will forever be a scorch mark on their record. Cratos  _ burned  _ through history, flames licking up over his feet leaving behind scorched footprints through the timeline as he traveled. An unnatural fire eating away at his flesh, leaving his bones exposed in several places- a true testament to his wrongdoings.

Marble melted into sludge, leaving behind another trail of footprints up to the altar, Cratos stopping short of the throne where Koios resided, ornamental chains wrapping around arms and legs, winding through the bones that he sat upon to keep him locked down to a further degree then just within the walls of the church. The singing voices grew louder and louder as Cratos approached, hands becoming visible as they are set aflame by the entural fire coating his body. They screamed in a beautiful sing-song chorus, their words overlapping each other as they cried out, hands pulling back to avoid the burn. Eyes glow white with all knowing power in greeting, met with the dripping of blood and a sinister grin of teeth stained red.

_ You’re looking for something in another timeline. _

Tongue running over teeth once, twice, and third time before the answer. Seeking something that didn’t exist in their plane- in their timeline. There was only one who could retrieve it, hand raising up to point to the jagged and broken mirror. Faced with himself, searching for something that he didn’t know how to describe, the dimensions started to shift in the reflections. Non existent items appearing and disappearing, none of which were what he was seeking, each one sooner and faster than that which came before it. A hand shoots out, slipping through the glass into the other side, creating an opening for Cratos to step through, becoming one of the flickering reflections- now a God who no longer existed. The world around him shattered and scattered, feet never quite touching the glass that made up the dimension.

Unobtainable desires flow through the liquid glass like a river, each flashing in and out of existence as they taunt those who stand in the church of Koios staring into the mirrors, longing desperately for that which they’ve envisioned. He cared for none of it, moving further into the dimension, risking erasing his existence in the name of finding what he needs.

_ Ties hold you down, keeping you locked to our plane, so long as you hold on to what completes you, the ties will not be cut, and you will be safe. I will hold the other end, I will keep you safe, walk to the ends of the non existent dimension if you need- I will pull you out. _

The church of Koios is nothing but empty promises of prophecy, the God spiteful of his fate, of his friends, knowing that it was inescapable… that it was inevitable in the eyes of the axis that sets the paths to every timeline and enforces them through Themis. He lives his brand through deception, cutting his hands on the lies that spill from his lips like poison dripping off his tongue. Blood slicks the chains restraining him, unable to hold on any longer with the bones skewering his body, more blood spilled from his body into the lake forming under his altar- under his ruling throne.


	2. Unwinnable Chess Game

In an otherwise empty room, an untouched chess board sits, several pieces missing and assigned spots empty. An unplayable game was about to begin, where only one hand moves the pieces carelessly, dismissing the attached rules of space and movement restrictions- there was no opponent to take turns with, no one else who could win or lose, the game doomed to always end in a draw until he was given someone to best in wits and strategic planning. Because there was no such person who could beat him in his domain- no one who knew how to play this game that he makes the rules for better than he did. The board flashed with images of the game, showing him a future that he detested with every ounce of his being- but such was fate, something even he could not fight against or change.

The pieces started their movements, slow and unsuspecting actions with no intention to engage in conflict with one another. He remains still on the board, not leaving his square, despite how the others come to him and ask him to come along with them. It was not his role to entertain them and their pointless adventures, but rather he was meant to stay in his place and watch the events of the game unfold. New pieces were set onto the board, ones that refused to stay in line and follow the actions they were supposed to be constricted too. It poked at him like a sword through unprotected flesh, standing in his place obediently- only to be openly berated for his dutiful compliance with the axis.

Pieces around him started to shift in color until they became the enemy, switching sides on him when presented with more entertaining opportunities. They claimed it was his fault, all he did was stand in his one square, not playing the game as it was intended to be played. He would say otherwise- he was the one following the rules, waiting for the hand to move him as it needed to when the moment was right for him to play out the strategy in the making. And was he ever moved, the breaking of rules forcing the hand to intervene with the game. Pieces were taken out left and right as he finally moved from his space, the others unable to do anything as his overbearing power wiped them out without effort. They became spiteful, angry that he had moved from his space- despite that being what they wanted from him from the beginning. They had gotten what they asked for, and rather than deal with the consequences, they would rather push it off onto him for fulfilling their requests.

The chess board is reset, a new approach, a new attempt. Their refusal to follow the rules had been an unexpected miscalculation- an action that only the hand was supposed to be able to commit. With this start over, new strategies would be in place, preparing for their inability to corporate. He tried to ignore the images that flashed across the board, tried to pretend he didn’t already know the plans that the axis had laid out before him. It was unbelievably frustrating, knowing that no matter how well thought out his plans were, no matter how many steps ahead he was, that fate was inescapable. Prophecies must always come true, such is the rule of the axis, no matter how it’s tilted, that is a truth that can always be relied on.

Pieces go up in flames, scorching the board and leaving behind permanent scars that tell stories no one would dare to utter out loud, the work done at the hands of Prometheus hushed into silence by Koios. He stands behind the other, unspoken disappointment written on his face as he watched the God he swore to defend take his trust and run it into the ground, getting away with ruining game after game of chess, the blame being shifted off his shoulders and onto Koios, who felt more like Altas with each passing day- the weight of the sky a pathetic comparison to the responsibility he holds.


	3. Infection

A pawn sitting upon the king of spades, paint spilling over the top down, staining the wood and card red. Death had become unobtainable, Thanatos inflected with the mind consuming disease that slowly spread, various pieces on the board splattered in paint. Some remain untouched, a protective coat covering their wood surfaces, the paint easily wiped away without a sign that it was ever there- but most are not so fortunate. It seeps across the board, filling the cracks between each square and pooling larger and larger until there is almost nowhere left untouched by it's infectious reach, something that Thanatos attempts desperately to fix. He stares out over the board with a smile, wanting to see everything coated in the same red that filled him from the inside- replacing his once golden blood with paint. Alke fell soon after, the whispering promises of the paint filling his head and pouring out his ears and eyes in streams of red. It takes away what was once there and replaces it with the desire to expand- to let the paint flood over everything and change the board to what it desires. 

It makes it's reach to Themis not long after he inflicts his divine justice upon Koios- the God locked away in his church by then. It mocks him, knowing that such events were no doubt foreseen- and nothing was said in warning of what was to come. A rage builds up in him, but it’s not like Themis could do anything about it now- to enter the church was to be at risk of the lure of the pews, and the God had no plans to become one of the mindless singing voices locked away, forced to keep Koios company for the rest of the timeline. He was intercepted by Thanatos, the pawn typically no match for the rook, such is the truth of chess- but there was an unexplainable power behind each of his movements that overtook Themis within seconds, the God left defeated on the board, unable to protect himself from the paint, which stained through his wood and ruined his card.

The hands that move the pieces carefully lift Themis from the board, dipping him carefully into the water, fingers deftly working away at his wood, doing their best to scrub away at the paint that stained him. It would never all wash away completely, there would always be some remnants of the infection within him, but the hands would do what they could to save him from total consumption. Some of the paint was washed away, Iapetos doing his best to clean it up as he moved from space to space, despite knowing that it was a waste of time- the flooding of paint returning within a few moves of the game.

_ There is no stopping it, the axis has spoken, and this is how the game must be played. Move around the tainted squares for as long as you can- there is no saving yourself from the infection. There is no saving yourself from being consumed in the end to its power. The axis created it for a reason, fate has been written. Do you really believe yourself to be above the laws of the timeline? _

Themis knew better than to walk the pews of the church, knew better than to sit amongst them and read from the books filled with knowledge only applicable to other timelines- ones that only Koios would ever see, shown by the axis all opportunities that were laid out perpendicular to their own plane. Yet down the aisle he went, searching for answers from the chained God who said upon his eternal throne of bones.

_ I cannot give you what you are looking for, the moves of the game have all been set up. There is no changing the winner of this game… nor any of the games that will come after. It was pointless to walk through my halls looking for what you seek. _

Golden blood spilled from his body, washing over the bones and flesh like a river over stones, a sword clenched tightly in the hand of Themis. There was no reason to be angry- he had  _ known _ that coming to the church wouldn’t reveal anything to him. But spite knows no reason, and his anger had grown substantially, and there was no one to take it out on- so Koios would become his punching bag. He who is one with the axis- he who is one with the timeline and fate- the chained God knew of every hit, seen ages before Themis had been placed on their playing board- long before he had been a piece in the game. It only fueled his hatred, knowing that no matter what he does it was already predicted- Koios already  _ knew _ how he was going to act. Everything was set in stone with no room for miscalculations…

Hebe had been a miscalculation. He who managed to not play by the rules- someone who the axis had not accounted for? Or perhaps someone who the axis had not revealed to Koios, hiding away the information until the moment it was happening, unfolding before his eyes as he watched the youthful God destroy what were thought to be unchangeable plans…

The axis played games but never by the rules- a cheater and a liar who whispered into the ears of Koios, telling him the truths of every timeline to exist, flashing images of every conceived  _ thought _ \- any event that could ever happen a speck of knowledge in his reserve. Knowledge that cuts through his throat like razor blades, spewing out in a stream of blood, laid bare for anyone to partake in, though there are consequences to holding knowledge that was not directly granted by the axis. Themis knew these consequences, had seen them take over mortal after mortal who foolishly thought themselves to be that of a God- able to receive the words. Their voices ring like an acapella, merging together into one sweet but haunting song- a reminder not to go searching beyond what one's mind is capable of enduring.


End file.
